


Coevolution: Melt

by unkissed



Series: Coevolution [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: Almost a year into their marriage, Albus and Scorpius reign supreme as a celebrity gay power couple.  Tonight finds them at a muggle nightclub where those attracted to the limelight come to “see or be seen”.A sensual installment in the Coevolution series in which Albus and Scorpius take risks on the dance floor while everyone (and no one) is watching.





	Coevolution: Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Gratitude, love, and green-heart emojis go out to Colorfulstabwound, my bestie and partner in literary crime, who understands first hand that music is a powerful muse.
> 
> The song that's playing in the club, and the song that inspired this story, is "Melt" by Duke Dumont. Listening to the song while reading this story might help set the mood and provide context.

**"MELT"**

 

He once told me that I was the brightest star in his sky – his Polaris. But here, in a crowded muggle club overpopulated by celebrities and those attracted to the limelight, Scorpius Malfoy shines brighter than all of these stars, myself included.

 

He’s so damn tall and so damn beautiful, it’s impossible to ignore him as he dances on the outskirts of the undulating crowd. He dances like nobody is watching, with his elegant, pale arms raised in hedonistic abandon to the thumping beat. This is just one of the reasons why I love Scorpius – his ability to unabashedly be himself while in the public eye, whether he’s under their scrutinizing glare or above their admiring gaze.

 

Everyone knows who we are, and we don’t entirely mind. Because in the muggle world, we can reasonably shoulder this sort of fame – the fame we earned all on our own, independently from the celebrity or notoriety that our surnames carry. Tonight, I’m Albus Severus, infamously gay rock star. And Scorpius is _Scor_ , notorious gay super model. Together, we are the reigning celebrity gay power couple – not even James and Teddy can claim that title. Not that I’m smug about it or anything. I’m merely proud of how far Scorpius and I have come in an industry where being openly gay public figures still gives some people pause.

 

So when a young bloke comes up to us with his mobile phone, offering his congratulations, and asks for a photo with the newlyweds, Scorpius and I are happy to oblige. It’s been almost a year since our wedding, but people continue to be thrilled by the news of our nuptials. Scorpius proudly flaunts the platinum band adorning his left ring finger as he smiles for the picture. The tiny emerald stone embedded in his wedding ring catches the light of the flash and glints like the blinking lights above the dance floor.

 

The guy seems more than just a star struck fan. He expresses his gratitude with an honest glimmer in his eyes and speaks loudly enough to be heard over the music, while still managing to convey sincerity. “Please know that you two are such role models. Your visibility makes it easier for blokes like me to come out. I can’t thank you enough for that – both of you. You gave me courage to be myself.”

 

It’s interactions like this that I live for – learning that I’ve personally touched someone’s life through my music or otherwise. “That means a lot to me, man,” I admit truthfully, holding my hand over my heart. “What’s your name?”

 

“Jacob,” he replies.

 

Scorpius appears terribly moved and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. He puts his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. “Thank _you,_ Jacob. I’m glad I can be seen as more than just rock star arm candy.”

 

“Are you kidding me? You’re definitely more than arm candy. You are our queen, Scor!” Jacob declares emphatically.

 

Scorpius playfully strikes an exaggeratedly haughty pose - his chin raised, fingers snapping high in the air, the other hand perched on an angled hip - as he says, “Just call me Your Highness.”

 

“ _Yaaaasss_! Work it!” Jacob says before his friends drag him back onto the dance floor.

 

I quirk my brow and repeat Scorpius’ words back at him in playful disbelief. “Just call me Your Highness? No wonder the press calls you The Ice Prince.”

 

“You know what the other runway models call me backstage? The Ice Queen. You know why? Because I’m cooler than all of them bitches,” Scorpius admits, mocking both his notoriety and his fellow models.

 

Scorpius has never been one to let cruel nicknames bother him. He takes these titles and he redefines them for himself. The truth is, as we both know, he’s referred to as The Ice Queen because he sometimes gives off this air of being above the other models, as if his status as my boyfriend, now husband, makes him more important than the others walking the runway. But in reality, Scorpius is cautiously navigating this new muggle career in a muggle world previously unknown to him, and sometimes it makes him introverted, which is often misinterpreted as him being cold.

 

But when he’s out with me, my comforting presence seems to break him out of his self-protective shell and the whole world can see how brightly he can really shine.

 

Scorpius skips deeper onto the dance floor with the jaunty rhythm of the song that the DJ is playing. He doesn’t even look back to make sure I’m following. We both know that I will follow him. But I won’t just yet. I want to watch him in his element, to admire him from a distance, and part of me just wants to make sure he can still shine even when he’s not next to me. Because I know that our careers will soon put hundreds of miles between us for weeks on end, and I need to know he’s going to be alright without me. I sure as Hell am not going to be alright without him.

 

He closes his eyes, reveling in the beat and the swaying melody, and I can decipher what he is feeling simply from the expression on his face and the way he moves his body. His heart thumps with the rhythm, his every move in sync with the song. His chest reverberates with the deep bass, and the dark sensuality of it makes his hips roll. The elation that the hum of the synthesizer brings raises his hands to the ceiling in silent praise. The lights hit the disco ball hanging above him, raining down glittering stars that shimmer in illuminated reverence to the deity who dances beneath, the god hewn from white gold and pale sunlight.

 

Just like the first time so many years ago, my heart flutters when Scorpius’ eyes focus on me, and me alone, with intent to commit mischief. He mouths the repetitive lyrics of the song like a summoning spell, drawing me closer.

_Kiss me darling. Kiss me baby. I can feel your fingers touching me. Kiss me darling. Kiss me baby. All caressing my deepest darkness._

His hand gracefully comes down from its raised position above his head, and he reaches out toward me in an effortless motion that is almost like ballet. It’s no wonder that he has made a career out of moving his body with subtle intention to seduce.

 

_Kiss me darling. Kiss me baby. I can feel you whisper in my ear. Kiss me darling, ‘cause we’re so close, I melt into you._

I don’t even have to fight my way through the crowd to get to him. People give a nod of recognition and a knowing smile as they allow me passage, as if everyone in the room feels the magnetic attraction between Scorpius and me, and knows we are meant to be together.

 

When I join him on the dance floor, he fits his body against mine perfectly, with his arms draped over my shoulders. The whiskey in my blood sends a flood of warmth through my body from the moment Scorpius touches me, like perfect alchemy, and I’m reeling from the simple pleasure of his fingers in my hair. Are we swaying to the music, or am I swooning from the way this impossible boy makes me feel? Perhaps it’s both.

 

 _So close, I melt into you._ We mouth the words together as if it were a song I had written, a song about him, a song his heart memorized for me. _So close, I melt into you. So close, I melt into you._

His lips form the lyrics in proximity to mine such that I can taste his words, hot and sweet and steeped in vodka. _Kiss me baby._

 

I can’t be content with just a song lyric, so I steal a kiss from his mouth. It’s singularly slow and wet despite its brevity, meant to please but not to satisfy, for as shameless as I am with public affection, I have my limits. And I know that a hot kiss on the dance floor could escalate to so much more when fueled by alcohol.

 

I gently fall away from him, but never too far – just far enough that I can still rest my hand on the back of his neck and watch the pink flush of desire blossoming across his cheeks. His lips are quirked in a knowing smirk. He recognizes that I’m teasing him and he loves it.

 

 _Touch me baby. Touch me darling._ He sings the words like an invitation, his sultry stare reeling me back in as effectively as his sensual mouth. So I return. We are cheek to cheek, and the hot melody at my ear repeats that seductive refrain. _Touch me baby. Touch me darling. I melt into you._

His body undulates slowly against mine with such elegantly executed moves that it could only be interpreted as dancing by the casual onlooker. But both Scorpius and I know the secret exchanged in that move – he’s getting hard in his tight blue denims, and if it were not for his un-tucked shirt, the whole club would soon know. His lap brushes against the top of my thigh, and it’s no accident. He wants me to know exactly what I do to him. He’s daring me to give him a full-on erection.

 

He’s wearing a stylishly loose-fitting button-down shirt paired with jeans that sit low on his hips, an ensemble which incidentally allows me easy access to the flesh that such an outfit is meant to hide. My hand finds the small of his back. His skin is dewy with sweat and I can almost taste his masculine brine on my tongue – it makes me long for his cock nestled deeply in my mouth. I let my eyes close momentarily as I shudder from the delightful fantasy.

 

 _You could do it, you know_ … That little devil at the back of my mind creeps to the forefront. _You could weave a glamour around yourselves and hide from the muggles… You could get down on your knees and take Scorpius’ beautiful cock right on the dance floor._

But I doubt my magic is strong enough to conjure an effective glamour. I’ve been entrenched so deeply in the muggle world for years now, and I’m so far removed from the wizarding world. I’m also a Hogwarts drop out. Sucking off my husband in public is not a situation in which I should be testing my questionable magical abilities.

 

So I resign to touch Scorpius in ways that won’t get us arrested. Not that I’m going to behave myself. You can get away with a lot in a crowded club.

 

My fingertips trace the furrow of his spine along the small of his back and he shivers pleasantly beneath my touch. I imagine my dull fingernails scraping long, pink lines of euphoric agony across the pale expanse of his bare skin as he fucks me so deeply that I feel him in places his cock shouldn’t be able to reach. I bite my lip hard to chase the fantasy away, but it only serves to make my lips wet and red and more appealing.

 

Scorpius catches my bottom lip between his teeth before capturing my mouth in a hungry kiss. I want to care about the pictures of us snogging that will end up on the muggle interwebs, but the soft delight of Scorpius’ tongue in my mouth has me giving zero fucks about anything else. Really, how can I think about anything else but Scorpius, _glorious Scorpius_ , when I can feel his erection growing firmer as he presses his body against mine?

 

When we give in to our unfortunate need for oxygen, I admonish him with a playful drawl. “Naughty boy.” I know this only serves to encourage his bad behavior. I encourage him further by turning around to subtly press my backside against his lap.

 

His arm snakes around my waist and he speaks softly into my ear. “I can’t help being naughty when you’re so fucking hot.” I soon realize how I’m able to hear a whisper despite the loud music. The tip of Scorpius’ wand traces a teasing line down the side of my neck. I can sense the electric remnants of magic lingering in the air.

 

Oh, yeah… Scorpius is a _powerful_ fucking wizard. His magic is inherently potent and seems to come effortlessly. I tend to forget this when we spend so much time in the muggle world. When he uses his magic unexpectedly, it doesn’t cease to amaze me, and I find myself falling in love all over again with the brilliant boy who aced all his classes at Hogwarts.

 

We keep swaying to the music as his wand draws invisible lines of magic in the air around us. To the ignorant onlooker, Scorpius is just moving his arm fluidly in dance. The magic grows stronger and makes the back of my neck prickle. I can feel his magic enveloping me and flowing through me and I can feel the full extent of his power deeply, drawing more strenght from my own magic, and _fuck_ , it’s inadvertently making me hard, and I’m not wearing anything that can effectively hide it.

 

He whispers against my neck. I hear it as clearly as if he’d spoken to me in a silent room. “For a moment, let it just be you and me.”

 

I’m weak in the knees and so fucking in love.

 

With another deft swirl of his wand, we practically disappear. We’re hidden behind a mild glamour meant to hide magical people passing through muggle spaces. We both know that if a magical glamour is created to full effect, we’ll be extensively unrecognizable to all muggles, which would be rather detrimental to our careers. Scorpius has given us just a touch of that magical glamour – enough to have a bit of fun.

 

He dances against me and his hips move with more intent, such that I can feel the unmistakable shape of his erection through his jeans, grinding against my arse. The hand that’s on my waist migrates to my lap. I reflexively panic as my eyes dart around the dance floor, but it is apparent that nobody notices us. This fact is further proven when somebody knocks into my shoulder without apology or acknowledgement.

 

“You look so good tonight, Albie. I want you all to myself for a little while,” he confesses, his mouth hot and wet as he kisses the side of my neck.

 

And then I’m melting, just like the song.

 

_So close, I melt into you._

I feel like we’re disappearing into one another, indistinguishable as separate entities, when our bodies arch into perfect alignment, the way we do when we make love. His palm presses harder against the growing bulge in my denims. I reach behind to hook my fingers on the side of his neck and moan softly from the heaven of his touch.

 

_Touch me darling. Touch me baby._

My cock becomes fully discernible in my trousers and Scorpius’ fingers curl around the conspicuous shape of it. He strokes me through the thick fabric and it’s just enough friction to make me twitch and dampen my pants with pre-come, but not enough to get off.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Scor,” I groan with agonizing pleasure. Maybe he’ll stop torturing me and take his hand off my achingly hard prick. Maybe he’ll try harder, be bolder, and wank me off properly. I wouldn’t be upset with either scenario, really.

 

He keeps his maddeningly slow pace and steady pressure around my dick and whispers sibilantly into my ear, “If they could see you now… their rock star god, all hot and bothered and beautiful, his dick as hard as his killer guitar riffs. You’d start a riot.”

 

I glance around at the people dancing precariously close to us who are completely unaware of our presence. I imagine for a moment that they _could_ see us, and I blush hard, feeling conflicting emotions. I’m somehow both mortified and thrilled at the thought of people watching what should be a very private moment. Then Scorpius undoes the closures of my jeans and my breath hitches. _Oh my gods, is he really going to…?_

“Boys would cut a bitch for the chance to suck your cock. But you’re mine,” Scorpius murmurs, and it is not possessive, but a declaration of our sacred bond. “My husband, my best friend, my Albie. All mine.”

 

He reaches into my pants and it’s so tight in there that his hand barely fits, but the sensation of his fingers around my cock, unencumbered by denim and cotton, is enough to bring me close to orgasm without the benefit of unrestricted stroking. I gasp and my eyes close from the intensity of pleasure.

 

When I open my eyes again, I’m met with the inescapable fact that Scorpius is jerking me off while there are people a foot away from us in every direction. I’ve always enjoyed the attention of others, but _this_ … this is madness. And I’m astonished to find that it is just the right amount of madness to give me that hot rush of adrenaline I always get when I’m performing on stage. It’s the same mélange of fear and vulnerability and danger and euphoric thrill that I get when I’m singing for hundreds of people.

 

I hazard to extract my cock from my pants. I might as well put it all out there, right? Scorpius’ hand returns with fervor. He continues to mumble softly and sweetly into my ear all these dirty things that make my body quiver and my heartbeat stutter.

 

“They’d beg for you to blow your load if they could see you. They’d all get on their knees and plead with you to come on their adoring faces. But you will only ever come for me… Come for me now, Albie.”

 

My fingers find his hair and tug gently. His own breaths are short and erratic in my ear. The outline of his cock strains against the fabric separating us – the only thing keeping us from fucking on the dance floor. But even Scorpius, as uninhibited and mildly exhibitionist as he may be, would never go that far.

 

The thought of him plowing through my arse in the middle of a sweltering, roiling mass of people sends me over the edge. My eyes roll back and I come with my lip caught tightly between my teeth to stifle the sound, as if my blissful cries could break the glamour spell.

 

“Gods, that’s fucking _hot_ ,” Scorpius remarks, and from the slightly strangled, gravelly way he is speaking, I can tell he’s about to come, untouched.

 

He grinds his clothed erection against me with fervent, precise thrusts, and he’s soon groaning vague obscenities at my ear. I know these unintelligible words to be the litany that Scorpius recites when he comes, and it puts a big sloppy grin on my face knowing I helped him towards a happy ending without ever touching his cock.

 

We’re still catching our breath and swaying slightly from that post-orgasmic dizziness when I feel the electric singe of hastily cast cleaning spells vanishing the evidence of our unexpected public sexual encounter. I stuff myself back into my trousers and blush guiltily as adrenaline quickly drains from my system and I emerge from the haze of sex. I feel slightly awkward and embarrassed, like I used to get when I’d have to face my best mate soon after wanking off in the bathroom to fantasies of him. Because I know I’ve done something bad, but nobody else knows – nobody but Scorpius, that is.

 

Scorpius looks sated, smug, and giddy, and gorgeous as ever. He can’t stop giggling, like we’ve just pulled off some relatively innocuous prank at school – not public masturbation. His cheeks are hot and pink and dewy with sweat and I’m compelled to kiss each side.

 

“You’re the worst,” I joke, knowing I was fully complicit with his bad behavior.

 

He laces his fingers with mine and his smug grin turns slightly bashful. “You’re the best.” He drops a swift kiss upon my lips.

 

“You are positively crazy. And I love you,” I declare. I kiss him properly this time. It’s slow and lazy and deliciously sloppy.

 

I feel a cold sensation running along my spine, like water is pouring down my back. I know what that cold, sobering sensation means.

 

“Oi! Get a fucking room!” Connor claps me hard on my shoulder, perhaps having just arrived at the club with the rest of my band mates. Or maybe he is just now recognizing my presence as the magic has now worn off.

 

For all I know, they’d been there the whole time. Because in that heated moment, Scorpius and I were alone amidst the crowd – just two oblivious boys in love, melting into one another.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are lovely, but feedback (including constructive criticism) is always welcome and greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
